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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27191923">I Want To Remember</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophalie/pseuds/sophalie'>sophalie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drabble, M/M, Post-Canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:15:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>644</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27191923</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophalie/pseuds/sophalie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“We were never kids, Markus.” </p><p>“Nothing is stopping us from imagining.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Connor/Markus (Detroit: Become Human)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I Want To Remember</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            A translation of

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/19166266">Я хочу помнить</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalaby/pseuds/Lalaby">Lalaby</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you to my beautiful Lalaby for creating this and for being such an inspiration.</p><p>RK1K is alive : )</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I wish I’d known you as a kid,” Markus says, barely audible. Connor turns around and faces him just to make sure that he really did hear these words and it wasn’t just some glitch in his audio processor. </p><p>	They’re settled on a narrow bed together in a yet another shady place that they’re going to abandon tomorrow. They haven’t had a decent sleep in a long time, and they desperately need rest now; need to get their thirium circulating, need to repair their biocomponents, need a reset at the very least. Five hours of sleep. Markus is supposed to be resting, not babbling nonsense in this pitch-black darkness. </p><p>	 “What?” Connor doesn’t dare to launch his audio processor to its full capacity, his body simply has no resources for it at the moment. So he has to ask again.</p><p>	“Wish I’d known you as a kid,” Markus repeats, louder this time. “A baby Connor.”</p><p>	Ready to drift into sleep mode, Markus had already turned the internal connection off, so all Connor has left is his external hearing. And currently it doesn’t feel… <em>enough.</em> He is simply unable to comprehend the incoming information. Doesn’t know how to process it. </p><p>	It has nothing to do with his mind’s operating capability. It’s about the data itself; the data coming from someone who made him deviant. The words. Complicated, confusing, illogical words Markus seems to be testing Connor’s program code with.</p><p>	“Markus, you’re–”</p><p>	“Quiet.”</p><p>	Markus lets out a sigh, brushes his palm against Connor’s cheek and lowers his hand to feel for Connor’s own blindly, lacing their fingers together. His thumb lightly traces the skin on Connor’s thumb, and then sweeps up to caress his wrist before finally halting, squeezing his hand in a firm grip. Connor’s air circulation accelerates, but at the same time his lungs seem slow, heavy, swelling inside his chest. He is used to it now, unlike the first time…</p><p>	 “That’s called affection,” Markus said back then while Connor was frantically trying to roll his systems back; to fix the program error; to stabilize his breath. “You’re feeling affection towards me, Connor. Just accept it.”</p><p>	And Connor did. Same way he accepted many other things before.</p><p>	<em>Affection.</em> His body had long since drained all its resources, thirium splashing uselessly around his exhausted lungs, but Connor just cannot switch to much needed sleep mode. Or he doesn’t want to. This feels way too good to pass up; feels way too good to suffocate when the deviant leader is merely holding your hand. Illogical, irrational, reckless.</p><p>Isn’t that what’s it like to be human?</p><p>	“We were never kids, Markus.” Connor tells him, having finally caught his own breath.</p><p>	“Nothing is stopping us from imagining.”</p><p>	Markus frees his hand and props himself up on one elbow, facing Connor. Connor doesn’t see, but rather feels Markus smile when he leans in, lips brushing against Connor’s face, and whispers: “Reconstruction is your thing. You just need to remember what we were like.”</p><p>	“To remember?” Connor is entirely confused. He choses to ignore the program error pop-ups, but not a pair of lips pressed to his own. He goes to follow them, but Markus teasingly draws back:</p><p>	“To remember. Who is older, me or you? What was your favorite subject at school? Can you tell me how we met? How did you decide you want to be a detective? Do you remember? I want to remember. I want to know all this about you. About us.”</p><p>	Markus nuzzles his nose against Connor’s, murmuring endlessly like a wind-up cat toy. And suddenly it all makes sense; stops being so absurd. Of course. Of course they were kids, how could they not be? Everyone was a kid once. They just need to… <em>remember.</em></p><p>	To reconstruct.</p><p>	Connor places his palm on Markus’ temple and softly presses their lips together.</p><p>	“Sure, Markus. I’ll remember.”</p>
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